


Goodbye, Hello

by jacksonwng



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Goodbyes, Hurt/Comfort, Last Kiss, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksonwng/pseuds/jacksonwng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek tries to leave without saying goodbye to Stiles. Stiles won't let that happen. Established relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kissing In The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I wrote two fics, a goodbye fic and a reunion one for Stiles and Derek. I originally posted the first part on my [sterek masterlist of fics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1013047/chapters/2017085) but after the sequel was written, decided that I should put them both together.

 

Derek had hoped that he’d be able to leave before Stiles found out. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave Stiles behind, knowing how much it would hurt him and how much Derek hated to be the cause of that, but selfishly, he couldn’t stand the thought of walking away, of being there to see the pain in Stiles’ eyes. He had to do this for himself, for Cora, and he couldn’t let his weakness when it came to the teen to stop him.

Of course, he should have known that in letting slip to Scott would mean that Stiles would know.

He was pushing boxes - there were so few of them, he hadn’t brought that much back to Beacon Hills in the first place - into the back of the Toyota when Stiles showed up. Even through the heavy onslaught of rain that was pouring down on them, masking trails and muffling scents, he could still sense when Stiles was approaching him. He paused and drew up slowly, not looking, refusing to turn his head.

“Stiles,” he greeted lowly, his voice distant.

“You’re leaving,” Stiles stated and god, he could hear the blip of pain that altered his heartbeat, and the panic that weaved just a little into the words he spoke.

“Yeah, I am,” Derek replied.

“Without even telling me?” the teen demanded, anger rising, and Derek could see the way his arm flew out, uncontrolled and unrestrained, in the corner of his eye, “I had to find out from Scott. You told  _my best friend_ , but not me.”

“It seems like it.”

“Oh for -  _look at me when I’m talking to you_ ,” Stiles ordered.

Derek remained stiff for a moment, as if entertaining the idea of disobeying, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He turned slightly, reluctantly, and tried to keep his face blank. It was a difficult process now that he could see Stiles. He was drenched, the rain having soaked through his clothes, and his darkened hair was stuck to his face. Droplets fell down the curves of his face, his neck, beneath this shirt. And his eyes, suddenly brighter in the gloom that surrounded them, made it hard to look away. From there, Derek could still Stiles’ disbelief and unwillingness to believe this was happening; his hurt and betrayal that it really was; his anger and frustration that Derek would even think about leaving him like this.

Derek closed his eyes and averted his head away, lest he be tempted to look back.

“Just…Derek…” Stiles swallowed and he paused, breathing in shakily as he gathered his thoughts, “I understand okay? I know why you’d want to leave. I do, after everything, how could you not? But were you planning on even saying goodbye?”

“No,” he answered honestly.

“Yeah, I thought not,” Stiles laughed bitterly and pushed a hand through his hair. It twisted into a mess before the rain flattened it once more, “I’m not even worth a goodbye to you, god, what have you been doing with me for the past four months?  Clearly, I’m nothing to you.”

“That’s not true,” Derek snapped, looking up and his eyes flashing red, “You know its not.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” Stiles retorted.

“I didn’t say goodbye because what we hav- _had_  meant nothing to me,” he stated.

“Then why?”

“Because you’d make me stay!”

Stiles paused, confusing passing over his face. “What?”

Derek huffed out angrily. “You wouldn’t mean to, but you’d look at me and I would just want to do anything to stop you from looking like that, including stay in this god forsaken town, and for once, I can’t let that happen, okay?” he sighed, all the heat leaving him in an instant, his shoulder slumped down and he was just so tired, “I need to leave. For Cora, and for myself. This town…it’s not good for me. It never was.”

Stiles bit down on his bottom lip and tried not to voice his objections on how no, it wasn’t perfect, and there was lots of death and monsters that chased us but god, it wasn’t that bad was it? It seemed silly, to try and argue such a case when Derek - god, Derek - he’d lost everybody. This family, his sister, his pack - and all in this town. Stiles could barely stand to walk into the library, knowing how many memories of his mother had taken place within those walls, and he couldn’t imagine how hard it must be when everything reminded you of what you’ve lost.

“So that’s it?” he said instead, “You’re going and not coming back?”

“Yes. Maybe.  I don’t know,” Derek sighed.

Stiles nodded and wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand. Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to cry. He’d wanted to scream and shout and demand an explanation and then storm away, feeling victorious, and now everything just hurt. He thought about taking a step closer, maybe giving Derek one last hug, one last kiss, but his heart lurched at the thought of  _last last last_  and he resisted.

Stiles took a step back. “I…I guess this is goodbye then. Just…let me know, when you guys are settled okay? Let me know you’re still alive?”

“Yeah, of course,” Derek agreed awkwardly.

Stiles didn’t know whether to believe him or not, so he smiled, the edges strained, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he made to leave. This was it then. It was over. They were over. Derek was going and Stiles…he was just going to be here.

Derek watched Stiles’ retreating back, watched the slight shake to his shoulders, and the way the shirt outlined his shoulder blades when he walked. It struck Derek suddenly and viciously that this was it. This could be the last time he’d see Stiles. The last time he’d see his face, see his walk, see his goofy hair or his stupid ratty converses that only a few weeks before had Derek demanding that Stiles get new shoes.

Derek couldn’t be sure when he started walking, but he became aware of it when he felt the shocking drip of cold water on the back of his neck. He sped up a little, grabbing at Stiles’ hand. The teen made a noise of objection, which was smothered by their lips pressing together. Derek clung to Stiles, wanting desperately to feel everything, to commit it all to memory because that was all he had left.  Stiles was slack at first, but he pushed back, his own desperation seeping into each quiver of his lips and every swipe of his tongue.

It seemed like hours and no time at all had passed when they pulled apart, breathing unsteady. Derek’s grip was cutting into the wet fabric of the plaid shirt and Stiles’ hand were holding onto Derek’s hair. There was a long pause, where they just watched each other, silently communicating and hoping that the other knew what the long looks meant.

Stiles’ expression softened and he smiled sadly. His hand slide from Derek’s hair to cup his face, rubbing at the coarse stubble for a moment before they dropped and Stiles pulled away. The cold air and rain that surrounded them filled the warm space that Stiles had left, freezing him and making him wish desperately for the contact once more.

“Goodbye Derek,” Stiles told him, taking a few steps backwards, as if to watch him for just a little longer, before he turned and left. He didn’t look back.

Derek kept his eyes on him until the figure reached the jeep parked at the end of the street. He didn’t look away until the engine had turned on, the car pulled out of park, and drove out of sight.

It took all of Derek’s strength to turn back to his car and close the boot, and head back inside.

There were still a few more bags that needed to be loaded.

 


	2. Coming Home To You

 

When Stiles saw Derek again for the first time, it was in the middle of night.

Stiles had been laying still in the darkness, eyes mapping the ceiling and ears straining to hear the blow of the wind outside his window. He should have been asleep and the nightmares had gotten worse, horrors that he couldn’t wake himself up from and no matter how tired he was, Stiles wasn’t sure whether he could deal with that right now. He thought about getting up, maybe reading something, before he remembered how impossible that was for him at the moment.

He had grown accustom to the silence, relishing the times where he wasn’t plagued with terrors. It was probably why he noticed the slight thump that seemed to bang in the silence. It made him tense and his breathing deepen with panic, and he sat up slowly. Hands settled on the bottom of his open window and pushed it up effortlessly, and Stiles reached to the space between his bed and the wall, hands curling around the end of the baseball he had taken to keeping there, just in case of nightly intruders.

But then the figure stepped through, one long leg at a time, and straightening up to his full height. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat and he wheezed out a startled noise.

Derek. 

_Oh god, it was Derek._

He didn’t look any different. He was still wearing the same leather jacket, with the same type of Henley peeking out beneath. He still hadn’t learnt how to shave, or maybe he kept his facial hair that way because he liked the way it added to his grumpy papa wolf look.

It had felt like a century had passed since he and Cora had left, since he had confronted Derek about leaving without letting him know and since Stiles had walked away from the person he loved because he knew that Derek needed to get away from Beacon Hills. They spoke of course. Texts everyday – until two weeks ago, when they had stopped abruptly and Stiles had no idea what had happened, but he could only imagine the worse – and phone calls at least once a week because Stiles refused to go any longer without hearing Derek’s voice. It had been hard, still was, because all the time that Stiles spent not sleeping, or screaming himself awake from the dark dreams, he wished that Derek was there to touch and to hold until everything was better again.

For a minute, Stiles thought he was dreaming, that this was just another cruel trick his mind was playing because Derek still wasn’t moving, just staring at him. Stiles realised he was still holding on the end of the bat and let go quickly, pushing himself up until his feet dangled off the edge of the bed, and then he stopped, too scared to get any closer.

“What…” Stiles started and trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

Derek stepped closer, and stared at him with those damn eyes that made Stiles feel like the lovesick teenager. “Do you want me to leave?”

Stiles let out an abortive noise. His hands locked over the sheets on his bed to stop him from reaching out. “No.”

Derek quirked a smile at him, relief in his eyes and shrugged his coat off his shoulders. Stiles watched the familiar process, as he approached the chair at Stiles’ desk and dragged the garment over the back, and kicked off his shoes and placed them neatly beside the chair. Stiles wanted to cry at how familiar it all was, and god, he had really missed it.

When Derek sat beside Stiles, the bed dipped and Stiles fell into the incline, his arm brushing Derek’s and then he couldn’t stop himself from pressing in close, dropping his head to Derek’s shoulder and hands raising up to grip his Henley as if knowing that, should Stiles let go, Derek could leave again. There a moment of hesitation, before Derek’s arms fell around him, comfortable and familiar around his waist, and Stiles breathed out shakily, his eyes falling closed.

“I didn’t think you…” Stiles shuddered and trailed off, burying his face in Derek’s neck and revelling in everything that was Derek.

“I know,” Derek muttered back, “I didn’t think I would either.”

“So why are you?”

He sighed, chest expanding and deflating against Stiles’ touch. “Because something’s happening again. Because this town needs someone to protect it. Because something is happening to you and Scott and Allison. Because this will always be home, whether I want it to be or not…Because of you.”

“Me?”

Derek hummed and tried to smile at him. “Yeah, you’re hard to leave behind.”

Stiles made a noise and sniffed. “If that means you’re back, and that you’re with me, then good. Excellent.”

Derek chuckled lowly, and his arms tightened around Stiles’ quickly. He dipped his head to press to the back of Stiles’ head, nuzzling at the long hair and then pressing a kiss to the base of his neck. “How bad are they?” he muttered.

Stiles had told Derek about the dreams when they had first started happening. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. People had nightmares. He just happened to be someone who had them more frequently than others. He’d sounded tired on the phone and Derek had been worried and it was no big deal telling him about how he had been having trouble sleeping. But now he knew what they were, knew how bad they could get, and Derek had been the person he told because he’d been too worried to trouble anyone else with his own problems.

“Bad,” Stiles answered because he didn’t know how else to describe them.

“You need to sleep Stiles,” Derek murmured the words.

Stiles resisted for a moment and then nodded jerkily. He had to sleep. He knew that. He’d done his research. People couldn’t live without sleep, and that was more terrifying than any dream could possibly be. “I don’t want to,” he admitted, “They…I don’t want to wake up screaming again. I  _don’t_.”

“I wish I could stop it,” Derek’s voice was pained and his hands moved through Stiles’ hair, a soothing gesture that Stiles clung to.

“I wish I could too,” Stiles responded honestly.

They clung to each for a long time, neither speaking, just soaking in the contact. Stiles wasn’t blind to the way that Derek was holding onto him just as much as Stiles was, and tomorrow, if this wasn’t a dream –  _please, of all things, don’t let this be a dream_  – he would ask Derek what had happened, where he had been, where Cora was. But now, he was too afraid, that if he said anything, that Derek would get up and walk away and he wasn’t sure whether he could stand to see him ago again.

“Sleep Stiles,” Derek instructed with a hoarse voice.

“Stay with me,” Stiles managed to croak out.

Derek hummed and Stiles let him rearrange them on the bed, until Derek was laying half over Stiles’ body and Stiles was safe under Derek’s arm, surrounded by his smell and pinned by his weight. Derek’s arm crooked and brushed through Stiles’ hair, knotting and staying, and Stiles sighed, entirely contented for the first time in ages.

Hours later, Stiles would wake up screaming and Derek would struggle to hold him close, voice desperate in his ear that “it’s okay Stiles, it’s just a dream, please just, just wake up please” and the Sheriff would burst into the room, prepared to do what he had done for weeks and comfort his son. Derek would halt him in his steps, but his son’s cries would make him move closer, to join Derek in holding the boy until his voice was raw and his eyes opened, tears burning his cheeks, and his chest hurt from panting.

For now though, Stiles was almost happy to forget what would await him in his subconscious and let Derek’s presence tether him to reality.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Whether you did or didn't enjoy it, please leave me a comment because positive reviews make me want to write more and constructive criticism means that I can improve.
> 
> also to talk to me or for more ficcery, follow me on [tumblr](http://queenofhales.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
